


Around the Bonfire

by BookofSpells



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, HP NextGen Fright Fest 2020, Halloween Costumes, James Sirius Potter tells scary stories, M/M, Pining, Scorbus, scary story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:13:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookofSpells/pseuds/BookofSpells
Summary: Albus and Scorpius are invited to spooky Halloween Bonfire in the Forbidden Forest. It's scary, but not nearly as terrifying as Albus' feelings for his best friend.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85
Collections: HP NextGen Fright Fest 2020





	Around the Bonfire

The fire flickered and cracked, engulfing the small, dimly lit clearing in a thin, acidic cloud of smoke. A thicket of dense brush and trees surrounded the glade, giving off a chilling illusion of isolation in the dead of night.

Albus Potter sat alone at the edge of the fire, staring up at the quarter moon in the inky black sky above. Deep in thought, he hardly noticed the ash falling into his hair, or the muffled noises of a party going on around him. He was enraptured by the bright, white light of the moon, which appeared untouched by the darkness surrounding it. Such a beautiful sight to behold reminded him of someone. But just like the moon, that someone—while visible—was entirely out of his reach. 

-

A bonfire in the Forbidden Forest was the only proper way to celebrate his final Halloween at Hogwarts; ‘a festive and frightening soiree’. That’s what James Potter had declared. And whenever James declared something, it became an ordinance in the eyes of his fanatical, Gryffindor following. 

A late night costume party with marshmallows, roasted cocktail wieners, and good company sounded like a blast. That’s what Scorpius Malfoy declared when he and Albus received their unexpected invitation. And whenever Scorpius declared something, it became an ordinance in Albus’ eyes. 

So, here they all were, a group of twenty or so, dressed as ghosts and ghouls, and all manner of not-so-terrifying creatures of the night—getting pissed on pilfered ale as they broke nearly every school rule imaginable. 

The atmosphere was creepy, Albus would grant his brother that, but the upbeat music and giggling teenagers took the edge off somewhat. At this point, it was little more than a dorm party in the woods. At an inevitable moment, a teacher would come along and bust it up. Albus’ only consolation was that the very real ‘Gryffindor/Potter Privilege' was likely to extend to the whole group. If they were to be caught, James would valiantly admit to everything, and Headmistress McGonagall would hand out meager punishments—a detention cleaning the Hospital Wing at the worst. 

Being a Slytherin, Albus didn't enjoy the same privileges as his beloved brother. If he’d coordinated an unsanctioned event in the forest, he and his house mates would be packing their trunks before their morning hangover subsided. 

“Gather round,” James shouted over the noise, switching off the wireless that had been playing festive, upbeat tunes. “C’mon losers, it’s time for spooky stories!” 

The gang slowly gathered around the fire pit, some grumbling over the childishness of telling lame stories, but James didn’t appear to be perturbed, and neither was Albus. He’d been sulking for the last ten minutes, pointedly ignoring his best mate Scorpius dancing the _Monster Mash_ with his insufferable cousin Rose. She was dressed—quite appropriately—as a siren. His own jealousy, Al thought, was a much scarier beast. 

Scorpius sat down in the grass beside him with a wide smile and blush darkened cheeks. Albus' stomach flipped uncomfortably at the sight of him. He’d been slightly nauseous since Scorpius arrived, in a sexy Dracula costume that really shouldn’t be doing it for Al… but _galloping gargoyles_ , it was. He now understood why girls fawned and giggled over erotic vampire novels. If Scorpius were to drag him off into the forest then, intent on draining him dry, Albus would have eagerly submitted his body and mortal soul to the darkness. 

“Are you having fun?” Scorpius asked him excitedly. 

“Mmm,” Albus hummed in response. The skeleton costume (a black and white body suit) that Scorpius had talked him into was too tight against his skin, and he was sure that the paint on his face had begun to rub away. The music and dancing so far had been obnoxiously cheesy, and the ale left a bad taste on his tongue. To top it all off, the ache of primal jealousy in his gut remained. No, Albus wasn’t having fun, but Scorpius didn’t need to know that.

When everyone was finally seated around the pit, James pointed his wand to the fire and shrunk it down, leaving the glade even darker than it had been before. Scorpius shifted closer to Albus, as if on instinct, causing him to shiver. He’d always liked how easily affectionate Scorpius was. _Now_ , he thought dreadfully, _he understood why._

Scorpius’ breath caught in his throat audibly (a familiar sign of anticipation) as James began his spooky tale. 

“There was once a lowly, small Wizarding township known as Hangings Borough, nestled between two valleys in the south of Wales.” 

Albus rolled his eyes at the dramatic tone in his brother’s voice. This was James though, he expected nothing less than full on theatrics—which is exactly what he got a moment later when James raised his lit wand and placed it below his chin ominously. 

“Long before the Statue of Secrecy was enacted, Hangings Borough was a peaceful area. Fertile land and abundant livestock kept its residents nourished and prosperous. A kind Muggle named Edger Baum, the wealthiest lord in the township, was a fair and noble leader. He was fascinated by magic, often exchanging gold with witches and wizards to perform magic tricks for his amusement. Simple things like shimmering sparks of light at the tip of the wand delighted the old man endlessly. 

“Over time, Edger collected a large group of magical friends, who found him to be an endearing old chap. He regularly hosted large feasts and Muggles of all classes were invited to his impressive manor to watch the shows. The frequent meshing of magical and non-magical folks resulted in an amiable comradery between the two groups. Indeed friendships, and even marriages, between wizards and Muggles was at an all time high. For a while, all was well.”

“This doesn’t sound like a scary story,” a snarky voice called out. 

“Shut up, Gordon, I’m getting there,” was James’ response. 

Scorpius snickered at the interaction, lying his head on Albus’ shoulder casually. He was relaxed, clearly enjoying the show. Albus wasn’t relaxed at all. His back went rigid, tormented by the simple touch. His fingertips itched, tempted as they were to snake around Scorpius waist and hold him close. But Albus wouldn’t do that. It was too intimate. Too couple-y. Too much of an admission of his true feelings towards his best mate. 

In Albus’ mind, wrapping his arm around Scorpius felt akin to flat out admitting that he thought about the other boy when he touched himself at night... Okay, so maybe James wasn’t the only one in the family prone to dramatics. 

“Old man Baum was charmed by Witches and Wizards. However, his eldest son, Malachi, resented them with a deep passion.”

“Ohhh,” Scorpius whispered excitedly. “I bet Malachi is the villain.”

Albus laughed lightly. It was an incredibly obvious statement which would have annoyed him coming from anyone else, but he adored Scorpius’ child-like enthusiasm. Honestly, Albus adored everything about Scorpius, which was why he was here in the first place instead of happily sulking in his dorm; free from itchy costumes, melting face paint, putrid smoke in the air, and best-friend-swindling sirens. 

He chanced a glance at his cousin Rose, his lip curing with a resentment equal to the man in the story. She was silently mouthing something into Yann Fredrick’s ear, a blush on her freckled cheeks. Yann looked as bored and uninterested with the party as Albus felt. 

It was unfortunate that people couldn’t really choose who they were attracted to. Albus was attracted to Scorpius, Scorpius was attracted to Rose, Rose was attracted to Yann, and Yann, vain as he was, seemed to be attracted to himself. Albus held back a depreciating chuckle at the irony of it all. 

“Malachi was just as entranced by magic as his father,” James continued, his voice becoming more and more ghoulish by the minute. “But unlike his father, he didn’t see it as an amusing novelty. He recognised the true power of magic, and feared that one day, the Witches and Wizards of Hangings Borough would use it to seize his father’s title and rob them of their vast riches.”

At that precise moment, an owl hooted in the distance. It was an eerie sound that caused several people in the circle to jump, Scorpius included. He scooted closer still, so close that he and Albus’ thighs were touching from knee to hip... An innocent move that Albus was having not-so innocent feelings about. The tight spandex costume he was wearing was far too telling, so he fidgeted, bringing his knee up to hide the damning evidence of his untimely arousal. When he looked up again, he saw James grinning like a cheshire. Probably assuming his story was the cause of the group's sudden unrest. 

Enthusiastically, James continued. “Malachi hatched up a plan. He thought that if he could turn the Muggles in Hangings Borough against the magic folks, the Witches and Wizards would leave, ensuring that his own power would never be threatened. He told a series of vicious lies to the townsfolk, elaborate tales of Wizards manipulating his poor, naive father. He claimed that they had Edgar under a spell and the gold he’d freely given in exchange for magic tricks was, in fact, stolen, in an effort to bleed the beloved lord dry of his wealth. 

“His initial efforts were of no avail. You see, the Muggles quite liked their Magical neighbors, who often shared their magic freely. A Muggle farmer—who’d once spent weeks of back breaking labor harvesting his crops,—would now invite his Wizard friend over and have the task completed in a matter of hours, exchanging a small portion of food for their time. It seemed that everyone from merchants to sheep herders were doing business with Wizards. Malachi soon realised that verbal slander alone wouldn’t do the trick. He would have to resort to more sinister plans.”

Scorpius placed a hand on Albus’ thigh and squeezed it gently. “You know, I don’t think Hangings Borough is a real place,” he whispered, oblivious to the rush of heat that pooled in Albus’ lap. For the sake of Merlin, why couldn’t Scorpius get his attention in a less provocative way? 

“Of course it’s not,” Albus hissed in reply. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the blood in his brain had drained south and he was no longer thinking clearly. 

Scorpius pulled his hand away quickly and looked down, mumbling an apology for interrupting the story. Awash with guilt, (and still not thinking clearly) Albus reached out on instinct and squeezed Scorpius’ hand reassuringly. 

“S’okay,” he breathed out. 

Instead of dropping Albus’ hand, Scorpius did something more terrifying than the story, or even Forbidden Forest itself. He entwined their fingers and smiled sweetly, revealing the pointed canines he’d transfigured for his costume earlier that day. A red stain—from fake blood—still glistened on his lips. 

Maybe Halloween really was an unholy night, Albus thought. Something dark and predatory was certainly rising up in him.  
Scorpius stared at him with bright, doe eyes and all Albus could think about was ravaging him, kissing the innocence glow right off of his face. 

Of course, Albus did no such thing. Instead, he turned his attention back to James, trying his best not to think about the fact that he and Scorpius were still holding hands. That was new, the two of them had never held hands before. Did they hold hands now? If Albus wasn’t careful, he might start to get the wrong idea. All Hallow’s Eve was hardly a night for new revelations. Scorpius was overly affectionate, that was all. Albus understood that fully, his body just hadn’t gotten the memo yet. 

Scorpius dropped his head back onto Albus’ shoulder, his wispy fringe tickling at Albus’ cheek. It was several minutes before Albus realised that he'd lost track of the fire-side story. It didn’t matter though, if Scorpius liked it, he would harp on and on about it on the walk back to their dorm. If Scorpius didn’t like it, then it wouldn’t be worth remembering anyway. 

“...grew more and more paranoid by the day. Edgar was ailing, days away from death's door, and Malachi, had grown mad with misplaced conjecture. His father’s closest confidants were all magical, and despite Malachi’s countless attempts to discredit them, they still held favor with the townsfolk. So, Malachi cooked up a final coup. A scheme that was sure to secure his noble inheritance, and drive the wizarding folk out of Hangings Borough for good. 

“There was only one foolproof way to force the people to listen, Malachi concluded. Words would always fall on deaf ears, but actions spoke volumes.”

James paused for dramatic effect, flicking his eyes around the group to gauge his audience. A few couples had slipped away to snog in the dark corners of the clearing, but to Albus’ surprise, most of the people sitting around the fire were still listening with rapt attention. Scorpius was one of them. The hand that held Albus’ felt relaxed, but the rest of his body was taut with tension. 

In the momentary silence, Albus noticed that the eerie sounds of the forest had increased in volume. Rustling leaves, odd tick tocks, and snapping twigs echoed around them. With little more than moonlight and a dying fire to guide their vision, the dense wood felt closer somehow. A chill ran along Albus’ spine, finally giving him the motivation to let go of Scorpius’ clammy hand, and wrap his arm around his waist, pulling the boy as close as he could. 

It was a risky move (and more selfish than Albus would ever be willing to admit) but Scorpius was obviously scared. And despite his feelings, Albus only intended to comfort his friend. He didn’t expect Scorpius to melt into his side like warm putty or hum, ‘s’nice’ contentedly. 

They were full on cuddling now.

Albus wondered if anyone had ever died from close physical contact with an unrequited love interest. Surely his lustful thoughts would land him in the second circle of hell… or perhaps the ninth. Falling for your platonic best friend could be considered a betrayal. Whether it was willfully treacherous or not, Albus couldn’t say. Scorpius would know, he’d been the one to actually read the sodding book. 

“Malachi chose his Muggle victims strategically… An ailing child whose parents had politely refused magical treatment in favor of Muggle means. A beloved shop owner who sold flaky pastries and cheese, but had not sought assistance from wizardkind because he preferred the manual work. And a benevolent, elderly abbess who ran the town’s orphanage. Her humble religious beliefs prevented her from participating in magical intervention. None of them were particularly outspoken against Magic. But they didn’t need to be.”

“Oh, no.” Scorpius gasped, hiding his face in the crook of Albus’ neck. “I think I know what he’s going to do.”

Albus supposed that was a good thing, because he certainly didn’t. 

“Malachi worked for days, concocting a poison from deadly nightshade blossoms. When his lethal Muggle potion was ready, he kidnapped them from their homes one by one, forced a single drop of the brew down their throats, and locked them up in the Manor’s basement cellar.

“It took hours for death to come. All the while, Malachi, watched as they screamed in agony, praying for mercy—” 

Scorpius sniffled, and Albus felt a warm tear seep through the shoulder of his costume. 

“—but Malachi was heartless, consumed by hatred and fear. He spared no pity for his helpless victims.”

“We should go,” Albus whispered, turning his head just enough to gaze into Scorpius’ watery eyes. It was obvious to him that the story was affecting Scorpius, causing him pain. And Albus couldn’t stand the idea of Scorpius in pain.

“No,” Scorpius replied hastily. “I have to know if it has a happy ending, Albie.” 

Against his better judgement, Albus nodded reluctantly. He squirmed when Scorpius smiled back at him, his long lashes darkened by the moisture clinging to them. “Okay,” Albus relented, failing to mention that this was a horror story. A happy ending was extremely unlikely. Instead, he looked away again, fearing that if he didn’t he might do something completely insane, like kiss Scorpius’ trembling lips. 

“...Malachi stripped the cold bodies of their clothing and meticulously cleaned away the evidence. He trimmed their broken nails, washed the lingering vomit from their mouths, and brushed out their tousled hair. When he was done, the man, woman, and child looked pristine. There were no abrasions or signs of struggle. They looked as though they’d simply dropped dead on the spot. Malachi preened at his success. His evil plan was progressingly perfectly.”

A cold gust of wind rustled the trees, nearly extinguishing the fire. Scorpius shimmied into Albus’ lap—his _lap_ —and wrapped the two of them in his vampire cape. It was warm, and thoughtful. Not much different from their late night study sessions when Scorpius would pull a blanket around their shoulders in front of the fire in the Slytherin common room.... 

Except that it was _totally_ different because Scorpius’ bum was far too close to Albus’ straining cock!

 _‘Yep,’_ Albus thought grimly, _‘it’ll be the second circle for me, Dante.’_

James, oblivious to Albus’ plight, continued to rattle on. “Under the shroud of darkness, on the eve of Halloween, Malachi placed the naked bodies in the middle of the town square. With great care, he took a bit of lead and wrote out a cryptic message on the cobblestone: _Those who defy magic, will die by its hand._

“Malachi walked away, pleased with his work, and waited for the downfall.”

At this point, it was clear that Scorpius wasn’t the only one spooked. Most of the people sitting around the fire pit had huddled up with their companions. But none so much as Scorpius had. He was clinging to Albus for dear life, jolting every time he heard the crackle of a fallen leaf. 

If Albus hadn’t known any better, he might have believed that Scorpius was intentionally teasing him. He did know better though. Scorpius wasn’t coming on to him. He was scared, but too intrigued to call it a night and head back to their dormitory. They’d stay to finish the story. Albus could only hope that a certain bit of his anatomy didn’t accidentally finish as well... 

… at least, not until he was alone. He’d feel guilty about it, he always did, but self control wasn’t a strong point for Albus. He knew exactly what he’d be doing when he closed the curtains that night. 

“The next morning, the townsfolk awoke to a horrifying scene. Three of their own were dead, laid bare, with no indicator as to how they’d died.” 

“Because Malachi cleaned them up,” Scorpius muttered excitedly into Albus’ ear. 

Maybe it was the sheer obviousness of the statement, or more likely, it was the sexual frustration coursing through Albus’ veins. Whatever it was, the words caused Albus’ gut to coil in indignation. It took everything he had not to shout, _‘Clearly! Now, can you please shut the fuck up and stop rubbing against me?! I’m about two second away from blowing a load, thank you very much.’_

“Yeah,” Albus grumbled instead. 

“Just as Malachi had hoped, the Muggle town folks revolted. It was a nasty scene. They gathered, pitchforks and torches in hand, storming and destroying wizard owned businesses. They laid waste to the town before moving to the countryside, targeting magical homes.”

Another gust of wind fanned away the remaining flames of the fire, leaving nothing but crackling embers. If Albus wasn’t so worked up, he might have felt the cold. But all he felt was Scorpus scooting closer, brushing precariously against his pointent erection. 

Albus moved awkwardly, his heart rate increasing. Fortunately, Scorpius didn’t react. Bloody hell, that had been far too close a call. 

“The enraged Muggles were unable to get through the barriers, which only served to fuel their misplaced anger. Suddenly, there was a divide between the magical and Muggle, the likes of which the town had never seen before. Malachi rejoiced in his handiwork, believing he’d fooled them all. However, there was one person he hadn’t managed to trick. His father, the kind Edgar, suspected his wicked son forthwith. 

“With the last of his depleting energy, Edgar summoned a wizard of great standing in the community. A dear, old friend…”

“I don’t think I need to hear the rest. I’m ready to go back to the dorm.” 

Surprised, Albus looked up, meeting Scorpius’ stormy eyes. There was something indescribable there. It wasn’t fear or trepidation. It was something hauntingly familiar, but completely out of place on Scorpius’ face. 

“You don’t want to hear the rest?” Albus asked timidly. 

Scorpius smiled softly and shook his head. “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Edgar and the wizard expose Malachi. Edgar wills his fortune to rebuild the town, and Malachi lives a lonely, impoverished life, haunted by the ghosts of his victims… or something like that, I’m sure.” 

Albus swallowed, “Yeah. I suppose.”

“It’s not much of a mystery,” Scorpius continued in a faint whisper, his eyes darkening in the moonlight. He placed a hand on Albus’ cheek and drew their faces close together. “Neither is that solid thing poking into my hip, and I’m much more interested in that.” 

Shivering at the touch, Albus’ breath caught in his throat. Scorpius had felt his erection, they both knew it was there, hard and heavy between them, but he hadn’t jumped up and ran away, or—in a much more Scorpius like fashion—blush deeply and pretend not to notice. 

No, Scorpius moving closer, running his thumb along Albus’ jaw line, a seductive smile on his lips… lips that were dangerously close to Albus’ own. 

“I’ve been wondering, hoping really,” Scorpius continued quietly. “I’ve suspected for a while that you…” he paused for a moment, suddenly looking insecure, “...you do, don’t you Albie?” 

Albus nodded, his mouth going dry. He wasn’t completely sure what he was agreeing to, but he wasn’t sure if it mattered. Because clearly, the universe had turned on its head. Either that, or Albus was hallucinating from a combination of watery ale and fumes from the fire. There was no other explanation for this bizarre turn of events. 

“I do too,” Scorpius breathed, his voice low and sultry, it’s usual air of excitable innocence lost in the night. He took Albus’ shaking hand into his own and steered it towards his lap. His eyes’ fluttered as he pressed Albus’ palm into the hard line of his cock. “See?”

“Fuck,” he choked out, his throat consticting with surprise and pent up lust. “That better be for me, Scorp, because if it’s that stupid story that’s doing it for you, I’m going to die.” 

Scopius laughed, exposing a dimple in his right cheek. “We can’t have you dying before we take care of this problem of ours. Now can we?” And there it was again, that sultry tone that Albus had only ever heard in his dreams. 

Albus channeled every ounce of courage he possessed—which admittedly wasn’t very much—and asked the question he’d wanted to ask for over a year. “C-can I kiss you?” 

Scorpius answered by closing the space between them and pressing their lips together. Something primal seemed to erupt from within Albus when they touched; greed, desire, and an all encompassing need to take. He wanted everything Scorpius was willing to give and more.

Pressing his palm more firmly into Scorpius’ crotch, Albus opened his mouth, boldly darting out his tongue to lick the seam of Scorpius’ lips. They moaned in unison, oblivious to the world around them, until an indignant shout reminded them that they weren’t alone. 

They sprang apart ungracefully, Scorpius falling off of Albus’ lap with a high pitched yelp. 

“Oi!” James pouted, pointing an accusatory finger at the pair of them. “Couldn’t you have waited until after the story was over to have it off? I’ve lost the audience!” 

Startled, Albus glanced nervously around the glade and sure enough, not a single person was listening to James anymore. Instead, those that remained were talking amongst themselves, some happily accepting coins, while others begrudgingly handed them over. 

“I can’t believe you decided to end a year-long betting pool at the climax of my horror story. I’ve been working on that for a month.” James crossed his arms over his chest in a huff, but his smile was fond. “Fuck it, might as well collect. Gordon! Where are you, you smarmy bastard? You owe me five Galleons!” 

Albus’ ears began to burn blood red. He averted his gaze to the ground, mortified. A betting pool? That had the name Weasley written all over it. Someone in his family was getting hexed to the deepest depths of hell soon, but in the meantime…

“Shit, Scorp. I’m sorr—” 

“I’m not. I just made a fortune.” Scorpius rose to his feet. Blushing madly, he reached out a hand. “Can I take you to bed now? I’ve wanted this for far longer than that bet has been going ‘round.”

Yes, something wicked was at play alright, but that didn’t stop Albus from having a very Happy Halloween.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are Kudos are greatly appreciated!


End file.
